“You’re ready?”

“I think so, sir.”

“Just like that?”

“Sir?”

“Very well, young woman, at the beat,” and Domick sternly tapped out the time with a strong stamp.

It had been fun, always, for Menolly to play with Petiron, particularly when he let her improvise around his melody. It had been a pleasure yesterday to see new music in Talmor’s lesson, but now, the stimulation of playing with three keen and competent musicians gave her such impulsion that she seemed to be an irrelevant medium for fingers that had to play what her eager eyes saw. She was lost completely in the thrall of the music, so that when the rushing finale ended, she suffered a shock as keen as pain.

“Oh, that was marvelous. Could we play it again?”

Talmor burst out laughing, Domick stared at her, and Sebell covered his eyes with his hands as he bowed his head over his harp.

“I didn’t believe you, Talmor,” Domick said, shaking his head. “And I’d played with her myself. True, only basic things. I didn’t think she was up to any demanding standard.” Menolly inhaled sharply, worried that she had somehow erred, as she had with the girls the previous day.

“And I know,” Domick went on in that tight, dry tone, “that you can’t ever have seen that piece of music before…”

Menolly stared at the Master. “It was fascinating. The interweaving of melody from flute to harp and gitar. I’m sorry about this section,” and she flipped back the sheets. “I should have used your chords but my hand…”

Domick stared at her until her voice trailed off. “Did Sebell warn you what would happen this morning?”

“No, sir, only to say that I mustn’t fail to come today.”

“Enough, Domick. The child’s worried sick that she’s done something wrong. Well, you haven’t, Menolly,” Talmor said, patting her hand encouragingly. “You see,” he went on, glaring in a good-natured fashion at Domick, “he just finished writing it. You’ve played the fingers off Sebell and me. Domick’s panting for breath. And you’ve managed to plow through one of Domick’s tortuous inventions with…well, I did hear one faulty chording besides the one you just pointed out, but, as you say, your hand…”

Now Sebell lifted his head, and Menolly stared at him because his eyes were overflowing with tears. But at the same time, he was laughing! Convulsed with mirth he wagged an impotent finger at Domick, unable to speak.

Domick batted irritably at Sebell’s hand and glared at both journeymen. “That’s enough. All right, so the joke’s on me, but you’ll have to admit that there was good precedent for my skepticism. Anyone can play solo…” He turned on the bewildered Menolly. “Did you play a great deal with Petiron? Or any of the other musicians at Half-Circle?”

“There was only Petiron who could play properly. Fishing leaves a man’s hands too stiff for any fine music.” She flicked a glance at Sebell. “There were a few drummers and stickmen…”

Her reply set Sebell laughing again. He hadn’t seemed the sort, Menolly thought, being so calm and quiet. To be sure he was laughing without roaring but…

“Suppose you tell me exactly what you did do at Half-Circle Sea Hold, Menolly. Musically, that is. Master Robinton’s been too busy to confer with me at any length.”

Domick’s words implied that he had the right to know whatever it was she might tell Master Robinton, and she saw Sebell nodding his head in permission. So she thought for a moment. Would it be proper, now, to tell the Harpers that she had taught the children after Petiron had died and before the new Harper had come? Yes, because Harper Elgion must have told Master Robinton, and he hadn’t chided her for stepping into a man’s duties. Further, Master Domick had taunted her with telling the truth once before. Rather than antagonize him for any reason, she had best be candid now. So she spoke of her situation at Half-Circle Sea Hold: how Petiron had singled her out when she was old enough to learn Teaching Ballads and Sagas. He had taught her to play gitar and harp, “to help with the teaching,” she assured her listeners, “and with the evening singing.” Domick nodded. And how Petiron had shown her all the music he had, “but he’d only three pieces of occasional music because he said there wasn’t need for more. Yanus, the Sea Holder, wanted music to sing to, not listen to.”

“Naturally,” Domick replied, nodding again.

And Petiron had taught her how to cut and hole reeds to make pipes, to stretch skin on drum frames, large and small, the principles involved in making a gitar or small harp, but there was no hardwood in the Sea Hold for another harp, and no real need for Menolly to have either harp or gitar. Two Turns ago, however, she’d had to take over the playing of the Teaching because Petiron’s hands had become crippled with the knuckle disease. And then, of course, and now Menolly felt the lump of grief rising in her throat, she’d done all the teaching when Petiron had died because Yanus realized that the young must be kept up in their Teaching Ballads and Songs since he knew his duty to the Weyr, and she was the only person in the Hold who could be spared from the fishing.

“Of course,” Domick had said. “And when you cut your hand?”

“Oh, the new Harper, Elgion, had arrived so I…wasn’t required to play anymore. And besides,” she held her hand up explanatorily, “it was thought I’d never be able to play again.”

She wasn’t conscious of the silence at first, her head bent, her eyes on her hand, rubbing the scar with her right thumb, because the intensive playing had caused it to ache again.

“When Petiron was here at the Hall, there was no finer musician, no better instructor,” Master Domick said quietly. “I had the good fortune to be his apprentice. You’ve no need ever to be ashamed of your playing…”

“Or of your joy in music,” Sebell added, no laughter in his eyes now as he leaned toward her.

Joy in music! His words were like a release. How could he have known so acutely!

“Now that you’re at the Harper Hall, Menolly, what would you like best to do?” Master Domick asked her, his tone so casual, so neutral that Menolly couldn’t think what answer he expected of her.

Joy in music. How could she express that? In writing the kind of songs Master Robinton needed? How would she know what he needed? And hadn’t Talmor said that Domick had composed the magnificent quartet they had just played? Why did Master Robinton need another composer if he already had Domick in the Hall?

“You mean, play or sing, or teach?”

Master Domick widened his eyes and regarded her with a half-smile. “If that’s what you wish?”

“I’m here to learn, aren’t I?” She avoided his taunt.

Domick acknowledged that that was true enough. “So I’ll learn the things I haven’t had the chance to learn before because Petiron told me there were a lot of things he couldn’t teach me. Like how to use my voice properly. That’s going to take a lot of hard work with Master Shonagar. He only lets me breathe and sing five-note scales…” Talmor grinned so broadly at her, his eyes dancing as if he knew so exactly her feelings that she took encouragement from him. “I’d really love…Then she hesitated because of what Domick might say and she dreaded his clever-edged tongue.

“What do you really want, Menolly?” asked Sebell kindly.

“You’re frightening her, Domick,” Talmor said at the same time.

“Nonsense. Are you frightened of me, Menolly?” He sounded surprised. “It’s having to train idiots that sours me, Menolly,” said Master Domick, but his voice was suddenly gentler. “Now tell me what facet of music appeals to you most?”

He caught her gaze and would not release her eyes, but his phrasing had given her the answer.

“What appeals to me most? Why, playing like this, in a group.” She the words out in a rush, gesturing at the rack in front of her. “It’s so beautiful. It’s such a challenge, to hear the interweaving harmonies and the melody line changing from instrument to instrument. I felt as if I was…was flying on a dragon!”